


Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff

by Brinny



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Awkward Barry Allen, BFFs, Barry Allen & Iris West Friendship, Barry Allen Loves Iris West, Canon Compliant, Cute Kids, F/M, High School, Teen Crush, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 14:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinny/pseuds/Brinny
Summary: Barry says that he wanted to tell Iris that he loved her so many times. Including: "...nights we stayed up talking." These are (some of) the nights that they stayed up talking.





	Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! You guys. This was supposed to be a 5 times story that got away from me and didn't have the tone I was going for. So here, have a somewhat schmoopy, somewhat comedic (hopefully!) fic about Barry trying to tell Iris that he loves her. (And maybe that 5 times thing will still happen!)

When they’re younger (a year or so after Barry comes to live with them, just before they’re in middle school), Friday in the West household is _Barry and Iris Movie Night_. Joe orders them a large pizza, half pepperoni for Barry and half mushrooms and olives for Iris (which Barry deems, “so gross” every time), and they sit on the couch in the living room and eat slice after slice. 

Iris always lets Barry pick the movie and he alternates weeks between old musicals and low-budget sci-fi, which is a combination that is just perfectly Barry.

Not that it really matters, anyway, because most nights they barely make it past the opening credits before chatting on about school and Barry’s latest science experiment and how Iris has this theory on how they can expand the tree house in the backyard (they just need to build _up_ , she thinks).

Some nights, Barry will shush Iris during a particular song and dance number or bright space explosion. 

“Shh, shh, shh! Just watch this part! It’s so good.”

And even though Iris pulls a face, she always makes sure she gets especially quiet, because he’s usually right.

 

 

When they grow up, Friday nights quickly become date nights. Iris climbs out of the second story window and drives around with boys and stays out way past curfew. Barry borrows Joe’s car to take girls out to coffee shops and always promptly returns well before eight.

If both of them are single (like when Iris dumps that jock football player and when Becky Cooper stops returning Barry’s calls), sometimes they’ll order a pizza and stay in and watch whatever is playing on cable that night.

But only sometimes. 

They start to grow up and they start to grow just a little bit apart.

 

 

“Barr?”

He hears the soft, timid knock at the door. Barry likes to read at night (science journals and comic books and dime-store detective novels), and usually keeps his door closed, but unlocked, so the light doesn’t wake Joe or Iris.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says. He sits up and moves a hand over his hair, sure that it’s sticking up in the back. “It’s open.”

Iris walks into his bedroom (her hair up in a messy bun and wearing a pair of sweatpants and Barry’s science fair t-shirt from sophomore year that says _A Moment of Science, Please_ and Barry just knows that she’s never looked prettier) and promptly sits herself on the end of his bed, plucking the latest issue of _The Amazing Spider-Man_ off his lap. After flipping through the first few pages, she puts it to the side and sighs.  

“Iris,” he asks, carefully. “Something wrong?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, disbelievingly. He pokes at her knee.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just – hey, remember movie night?”

“You mean, _Barry and Iris Movie Night_ TM? How could I forget?” he says through a smile. And then, after a small pause, “You know, I don’t think we ever made it through a full movie.”

“No, I guess we didn’t, huh? Maybe we should have trademarked a different name.”

“Well, _Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff_ just doesn’t really have the same ring to it.” 

Iris laughs and just the sound makes Barry grin, big and wide. And he’s pretty sure that he’s blushing. Great. (He’s, like, so stupid in love with her. It’s not even funny.)

“It really doesn’t,” she agrees. She looks down where her feet are touching his through the blankets, before looking back up at him and asking, “Do you miss it? I mean, do you miss us? I just feel like I miss us.” 

“C’mon, we’re still Barry and Iris.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. It just feels different somehow. We don’t really hang out anymore.” 

“Well, we could always reinstate _Barry and Iris Movie Night_.”

“You mean, _Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff_?”

“We don’t have to eat pizza.”

“I’d really like that, Barr,” Iris says, smiling softly. And then, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh, we’re starting tonight? Right now? Okay, cool,” he says, nodding. “I mean, if we are starting tonight, we probably should get a pizza though, right?” 

“Yes, totally. Of course.”

 

 

They end up talking all through the night. They sit on Barry’s bed with a pizza box between them and they talk until Barry’s bedroom starts to glow with the soft light of dawn.

 

 

They talk about applying for colleges:

“Don’t you think it’s going to be weird not going to the same school?”

“Barry, c’mon, we’ll still apply for the same ones. But if one of us maybe gets into some crazy-good-sciencey-nerd school, then that person should go to that school and not let their enormous brain go to waste.”

“Iris, you do know that you’re never going to get into Crazy Good Sciencey Nerd U, right? It’s, like, really prestigious.”

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

 

 

They talk about break ups:

“Iris, she was not that bad.”

“For real? She was the WORST. So bad, Barr. So, so very bad.”

 

 

They talk about their moms:

“We should start a club.”

“What, like a support group or something? Like a therapy club?” 

“Yeah. Like: The Dead Moms Club.”

“Wow. Iris. No.”

“Too dark? Yeah, it felt too dark when I said it.”

“Plus, that’s a _really_ steep membership fee.”

 

 

And soon, Friday nights become _Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff (With Movies and Pizza Being Optional)_.

Friday nights become when Barry thinks that he’s finally going to tell Iris that he’s in love with her.

 

 

He’s going to tell her when they’re lying face to face in Barry’s small, twin-sized bed and Iris is ten minutes deep into a rant about this new guy that she’s dating.

(Or, “Not really even dating, because he literally only calls me when his buddies bail on him, like I’m his back-up or something. And then you know what we do? We sit in his _car_ , Barry. We sit in his car and we listen to the game. God, why do boys suck so much?”)

He’s going to tuck her hair behind her ear and he’s going to look into her eyes and he’s going to tell her that some boys aren’t like that at all. Some of them wouldn’t even dream of Iris West as a back-up. Because she’s first. For everything.

But when he reaches his hand up and touches his fingers to the start of her temple, Iris quickly pulls her hair from her face and puts it behind her ear before he even gets the chance. 

“Barry? Are you listening?”

He drops his hand and _mmm-hmms_ in response.

 

 

He’s going to tell her when they take Joe’s car out for a midnight drive (which is really more like a four a.m. drive and is definitely the first time Barry has ever purposely broken curfew) and Iris puts the top down because, “Oh, my god, live a little Barry.”

He’s going to tell her that he loves her. He’s going to tell her everything that he’s kept inside for the last five years. He’s going to tell her that out of everything that’s ever happened to him in his entire life, that she is the best thing.

“You’re quiet,” she comments. 

“Just thinking,” he says.

Iris nods in response and sharply turns the car around the next corner. Barry is pretty sure she missed the stop sign. He grips the door handle.

“You’re going a little fast, don’t you think?”

She smiles at him.

“Barry, sometimes fast can be good. Like that feeling when your heart races because the right person looked at you or when your stomach does that quick little flip-flop on a rollercoaster or when you just have to run to someone because you need to be in their arms right that second and a minute would just be too long. You know? 

“Yes,” he breathes. He totally knows.

Oh, he’s so going to tell her.

And then Iris crashes the car.

 

 

He’s going to tell her when they’re sitting with their backs against the sofa, a blanket around their shoulders and a family photo album in their laps, keeping their voices low so they don’t wake Joe. 

“Hey, it’s our wedding,” Iris says, tapping her finger on a photograph of tiny-bride-Iris and tiny-groom-Barry. “Damn, Barr, you were cute. What happened?”

“Puberty,” Barry deadpans.

Iris leans into him, laughing. “Oh, c’mon, Barr. I was joking. You _know_ you grew up gorgeous.” 

He can feel her pressing against him, the warmth and perfectness of Iris West, and he’s going to tell her. He really means it this time. 

He’s going to tell her that she’s the one who grew up gorgeous. Actually, that she’s always been gorgeous. He’s going to tell her that she’s beautiful, just absolutely every part of her, inside and out. And, oh my god, he loves her so much.

And then Iris flips the page and coos, “Aww, look at your little baby face.” 

“Yeah, that’s from freshman year.” 

“But it was before you got so tall,” she says, like this explains anything.

She turns another page and there’s a series of photographs of the two of them during a family road trip: the two of them making silly faces at the camera and the two of them napping in the backseat of Joe’s old station wagon and the two of them posing with their arms slung around each other. (Did he mention that he’s totally in love with her?)

“We’ve been best friends for so long,” she says. She moves herself a bit closer, tucking into his side with her head on his shoulder. “Promise me that will never change.”

“Yeah, no. No, of course not,” Barry says. He presses a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I wouldn’t do anything to change that. Promise.”

And he can’t tell her now.

 

 

So, Friday nights will just have to be _Barry and Iris Movie Night Where They Don’t Really Watch Movies, Just Eat Pizza and Talk and Stuff (With Movies and Pizza Being Optional) and Where Barry Definitely Doesn’t Tell Iris He’s in Love with Her._

He can live with that.


End file.
